


fuck, i'm thankful

by CookieMonstersRUs



Series: fuck, I love you, I love you [12]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Ass Play, BDSM, Biphobia, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Come play, Dinner, Dom/sub, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Face fucking with feeling, Found Families, Frottage, Gentle, Good Boy, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Massage, Nipple Play, Ok Boomer, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Subspace, Thanksgiving, Wow, but not described sorry my dudes, butcher managed to restrain himself, butcher trims his beard for LOVE, butcher wanted to maim or seriously injure, clueless old people, discussion of role reversal, discussion of sex acts that i will probably never write because im tired ily, domestict butcher, happiness, hugh campbell is a spineless twat, hughies grandma really went oh they're just best friends, i saw that tag and i KNEW it was about hughie and butcher omg, making out against a car, massage oil, nervous hughie, stealing pies, surprisingly no rimming, you know I had to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieMonstersRUs/pseuds/CookieMonstersRUs
Summary: It's holiday season and Hughie's nervous about taking Butcher home.It's worth it in the end. :)
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Series: fuck, I love you, I love you [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1452367
Comments: 57
Kudos: 206





	1. fuck, i'm antsy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iamnoone1017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamnoone1017/gifts), [SmallBadg3r99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallBadg3r99/gifts), [jiminthestreets_bonesinthesheets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminthestreets_bonesinthesheets/gifts), [bachaboska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachaboska/gifts).



Thanksgiving. Fuck. Hughie rested his head against the door after knocking on it, taking a moment to himself to breathe, to sigh, to curse to himself. He should just call it off. It was going to be a shit show. Hughie didn’t want to do it, but it was expected of him. It was a lot easier when Hughie was younger and his mother was there to distract him, and it was nice that Butcher would be there this year, but Hughie knew he was throwing him to the wolves. Robin used to go with him and they were still snotty thots when it came to it all. Butcher would curse them out then everything would get messy and Hughie’d never be allowed back and then there’d be terse phone calls from his aunt for the next three months and then--

Footsteps approached the door. Heavy ones: Butcher. Hughie sighed again and stood up straight, plastering an easy grin on his face. C’mon, Hughie, get you’re fucking shit together. Tonights just for you and Butcher. Don’t think about the bullshit. Fuck, get your head on straight.

The door opened. Hughie stepped inside. They shared a simple kiss. “How was your day?” Butcher murmured. Sometimes, Hughie couldn’t believe that he could have this: domesticity with Billy. Butcher didn’t seem like the type to be simple, sweet, but things changed and it made Hughie’s heart do all these swirly things that made him want to laugh on the subway like an insane person. Luckily enough, he saved his laughter for Butcher and his apartment.

“Long, tiring.” Hughie rubbed their noses together. “Glad to be here.”

“You know you don’t need to knock,” Butcher reminded him, referring to the key he’d given to Hughie a couple of weeks ago. It had left Hughie shaking, mostly because it was in the middle of a Sunday afternoon and Hughie hadn’t been doing anything particularly sexy and Butcher had gotten up from their cocoon on the couch, grabbed him a key, and pressed it into his hands while he kissed the top of his head.

Still, Hughie liked to knock because even though Hughie had a key and an unofficial drawer and a coffee mug for him, this was Butcher’s home, not Hughies. Plus, Hughie liked to see the flushness on Butcher’s face when he opened the door to see him. Hughie wasn’t sure how he did it, but Butcher managed to make opening doors look sexy. Like wow, man could open doors all day for Hughie.

They walked further into Butcher’s apartment, hovering close to one another. Hughie’s hand lightly held Butcher’s arm, but he’d deny it if anyone was there to see the tender act. “You eaten yet?” Butcher asked. It was eight. Hughie ate at irregular times, they both did, so this was a common question between them. 

“No, but I’m not hungry.”

“Fuck off, Hughie.” Butcher kissed his temple, so fast Hughie registered it after the fact, and peeled off to the kitchen. “You need to eat.”

“Butcher…” Hughie rubbed his eyes. “I just want a nap.”

“It’s too late for a nap.” Butcher pulled out a frying pan and some bread. Hughie leaned against a counter, watching him do his thing. The sight of bread, and then the cheese, cause the hunger to surge up on him in a nauseous wave that he hadn’t felt moments before. He was hungry now because he had been so empty before. “You’ll wake us both up at five and we’ll be miserable for the rest of the day. And we don’t want that now do we?”

“Tomorrow’s gonna suck either way.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Butcher came back to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I--well,” Hughie sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He was doing a lot of sighing these days wasn’t he? For fuck’s sake, he sounded like an unhappy housewife. Butcher didn’t say anything while Hughie gathered his thoughts. They were becoming well-equipped with each other’s habits, learning when to press and when to back off, to let the other think. Butcher’s hand rested warmly on him the entire time, stroking the tendons in his neck softly, relaxing him slightly. Hughie didn’t want to say it, not right now. He glanced at the bread on the table, his stomach gnawing. “What are you making?” Hughie asked.

Butcher’s thumb pressed against the little space right behind his ear. It made him shiver and feel incredibly cared for all over. “Sandwich should make you feel better, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Hughie sighed. 

“Alrighty then.” Butcher kissed him on the cheek and turned back to the stove. Hughie took off his jacket and laid it across the back of a chair. He got himself a glass of water, another one for Butcher, and sat down at the table. He watched Butcher cook, the hard line of his back. They didn’t talk much while Butcher cooked, while the kitchen warmed with the stoves, while the air filled with that shimmery spell of butter and cheese and tomato. Butcher did tell him a story about a stalking case he was working on. Poor woman. Hughie stared down at his hands by the end of it, rubbing at the skin, trying not to shake with the low-grade anxiety that’d been with him for the past week and the hunger pangs that rang each time Butcher’s spatula smacked against the pan or his knife came down on the cutting board.

By the time he was done, Hughie’s mouth watered and his back was hunched over in his seat, more than ready to eat his own arm if he had to. Butcher came over with one large plate to share between the two of them. He sat down next to him, not across like usual, and Hughie practically drooled at the sight of grilled cheeses and diced tomatoes. Billy had basically made bruschetta but with grilled cheeses, sliced into triangles, four sandwiches total. Hughie picked a slice up and shoved it into his mouth, warmth settling inside of him at the taste of buttery, cheesy bread and fresh tomato dripping down his mouth. He ate like a caveman, in some kind of heaven with Butcher’s food. Hughie could cook some things, but everything Butcher made, Hughie loved, absolutely died for. Maybe he was a great cook, maybe it was Butcher, either way, it made Hughie happy.

Butcher swiped some of the mess off Hughie’s chin and Hughie slowed his chewing at the action, savoring the tomato just as much as the gentle touch of Butcher’s thumb on his skin. Butcher’d barely eaten a slice.

“Are you going to have one?” Hughie asked quietly.

“I had a rueben with M.M. earlier, so I’m not as hungry.” Butcher’s hand left him and gestured to the plate. “Eat some more.”

“Thanks.” Hughie picked up another piece and ate it.

“Feeling better?”

Hughie nodded, but wasn’t looking at him. Butcher knew this and placed his hand on Hughie’s knee underneath the table. It wasn’t a sexual thing, but an act of comfort, of warmth and presence to remind Hughie that Butcher was there, was going to take care of him, wanted to know what was really bothering him. They ate in silence because Hughie couldn’t address the truth on an empty stomach and Butcher wouldn’t breach his space. 

When Hughie was done, he stared at the empty plate between them, practically licked clean. Hughie for some reason couldn’t look up. He put his hand underneath the table on top of Butcher’s hand. Butcher twisted it around so they were holding hands know, a reassuring squeeze between the fingers before Butcher’s fingers relaxed and he waited for Hughie to speak. 

“Can you…” Hughe sighed. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand. “Can you take care of me tonight?”

Butcher’s thumb rubbed the back of Hughie hand as he spoke. “What’s stressin’ you?”

“Thanksgiving. Seeing my family.”

His hand stilled. “Is it about me? Do you not want me there?”

Hughie’s head shot up. “What? No!”

Butcher relaxed. Hughie hadn’t realized Butcher was tensed up until his shoulders drooped. His thumb resumed its rubbing. “Okay, Hughie. Do you want the cuffs or the rope?”

Hughie felt small, caved in on himself, when he admitted to, “Rope, please.”

“That’s alright then, dear.” Butcher got up from his seat, still holding Hughie’s hand. Hughie stood up with him. They kissed over the table corner, still holding hands. “I want you to go in the room, and wait for me there.”

Hughie nodded, stumbling away. He walked down the hall, heart racing, and ended in the familiar room. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to get undressed or get on the bed, so he stood there dumbly, listening to Butcher put away the dishes and shivering from the absence of Butcher’s heat. He heard Butcher fiddle with the thermostat and the heater turning on. Then he heard footsteps and Hughie had to resist the tempting urge to turn around and watch Butcher. Besides, he liked the thrill of hearing Butcher’s heavy footsteps come for him, intent with each step, so reassured in himself. Butcher came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Hughie’s hips, pulling him flush against his back.

“Do I have to do all the hard work, darling?” Butcher murmured in Hughie’s ear. He made a soft noise at that. He felt warmed, surrounded by Butcher in that far-away kind of way. Butcher rested his foot against the back’s of Hughie’s heels and Hughie lifted himself up, sliding the shoe off him and then kicking them off completely. Butcher undid Hughie’s belt and and jeans, he pulled up Hughie’s shirt, and pulled down his pants and boxers. Hughie let himself go loose with the motions of Butcher undressing him, of his warm hands sliding down Hughie’s arms and across his chest, leaving little kisses at the back of his neck. Hughie shivered from the cool air against his cock, but knew he’d warm up soon enough. Butcher turned Hughie around, kissing him on the lips before ducking down and helping Hughie take off his socks. Butcher left a kiss on Hughie’s calf which made him smile.

Butcher stood up and guided Hughie to lay on the bed. He went and got the rope, thin black cord that they didn’t use too often, but enough for them both to be familiar with the actions of Butcher tying his hands together, of him kissing his elbows and wrists, of him threading the rope across his chest then thighs then arms, all the while leaving warm kisses on Hughie’s skin and making him squirm with the murmured praise. “So pretty like this,” Butcher said, voice low. “All for me.”

By the time Butcher was done, Hughie’s thighs were drawn up, tied to his arms, leaving him curled up in a ball, but his cock easy to access. Butcher laid him on his side, kissing him, biting his bottom lip, fingers trailing up and down Hughie’s hard dick. 

“I know you like being tied up,” Butcher whispered in his ear. “But I want you all nice and soft for me, my dear. So good for me like this.” 

Hughie’s eyes slipped shut at that.

Butcher shifted Hughie further up on the bed so that his head rested on the pillows. Then he left Hughie for a moment and came back just as fast, a bottle in his hands. Hughie thought it might’ve been the lube and twitched, but Butchers poured a line down Hughie’s back and rubbed it in. The message oil warmed Butcher’s palm ground into his skin, into his tense muscles. Oh, that’s what he meant. 

Butcher rolled Hughie onto his knees, so that his face was pressed into the pillow, knees on duvet. Butcher poured another line down his back, in parallel to the rope down his spine. There’s was no robe from his spine to his ass, which was a shame because Hughie wanted something to rub against while Butcher rubbed his back. Hughie was getting hot, a little needy. He wanted something in him, but he also liked it just like this. He liked having Butcher on him, his big hand rubbing his shoulders. It didn’t feel like Butcher was dominating him, but possessing him in a way that made his worries melt and his cock ache. He wanted to move faster, greedy for more, yet basking in the slow and gentle Butcher had given him. It was okay, though, Butcher’s oiled palms made their way to his hips, rubbing at the bone, then down to his ass, cupping his cheeks.

“So pretty,” Butcher said absently, like his attention was drawn just to his ass. Hughie felt his cheeks redden and hid his head in further in the pillows. Was Butcher going to spank him? His breath hitched at the thought. “So good for me, Hughie.” He squeezed his eyes shut as Butcher rubbed at his cheeks. He held them firmly in his hands, raising them up and down and twisting his wrist as he did it, so it reminded Hughie of raising himself up and down Butcher’s cock. The light drop of his cheeks then the quick picking up. Hands stopped rubbing around and started moving back and forth, opening and closing his cheek, baring his hole. Butcher’s thumb rubbed at it, dry and gentle. Hughie moaned, it getting trapped in the pillows. Butcher chuckled and stopped, hands leaving all together. Hughie shook his head at that, making another sound. Then he heard the bottle open and felt the oil dribble down his crack. Hughie squirmed, trying to get it rubbed in, but Butcher made a dark sound low in his throat and Hughie stilled. “That’s it,” Butcher soothed, hands returning to Hughie’s hips, “good boy.”

He rolled Hughie onto his back and know Hughie had to face Butcher looking like the mess he was: eyes blown, red cheeks, spread out from the ropes, and his dick wet and twitching. Butcher looked soft in the light, easy, but still took up the entire space. He shuffled on his knees closer to Hughie until his jeans hit the back of Hughie’s thigh. He leaned over Hughie and kissed him, a rough surprise. Hughie relaxed into the kiss. Then he felt Butcher’s slippery fingers tug at his nipples. Hughie moaned. He was rough at first than soothing, rubbing one bud until it was firm and then the other. 

Butcher stood back up and got the message oil. He kneaded it into his shoulders again, then his pecks (tugging at each nipple as he passed,) and then his stomach, which only made Hughie giggle, ticklish. Butcher smiled at that, and Hughie’s face got even redder. Hughie thought his next touch would finally be at his cock, his hips shifting back and forth for it, but Butcher moves from there to the bottoms of his thighs, rubbing at the sensitive skin there. Butcher pressed kisses to each of his knees and Hughie laid his head back, staring up at the ceiling as the touch and tenderness continued. The ropes caved him on himself, made him feel small and safe and guarded. But the kneading, the gentle hands gliding along the rope lines, the soft murmur of Butcher’s voice telling him how good he was, it made him feel like the ropes weren’t there and Hughie was stretching out, wider than before, freeing himself at the tender touch. 

“You’ve been so good for me, Hughie,” Butcher drew him back from his thoughts, his already fading thoughts. “You deserve so much, all of it. I’m gonna give it to you, okay?”

“Yes, please.”

Butcher chuckled and then he poured a line of message oil down Hughie’s neglected, twitching cock. He made an, “Oh!” sound and Butcher didn’t touch him, not all. The oil down his ass wasn’t nearly as bad as down his cock, were it was hot and in the air. The oil made him feel like he’d already cum all over himself, but he hadn’t and so that made it worse.

Butcher got up from the bed and took off his shirt. Their eyes were locked on each other. Hughie shifted around in his ropes, heart racing. “Please,” he said. “Please.”

“Look at you,” Butcher said, undoing his pants. “All tied up for me. Should leave you like this, see how long it takes to get off all on your own.” Hughie shook his head, frantic, but Butcher reminded him, “I’m not leaving you. Never.” Normally Butcher would also call him a pretty little cockslut and Hughie’d open his legs wider in hot shame, but instead he said,jacking himself off at the sight of him, “Absolutely beautiful,” and Hughie keened, embarrassed and hot and feeling loved all over.

Butcher came onto the bed and crowded himself in Hughie’s space. Hughie relaxed again, practically slumped in the bed, feeling surrounded and whole by Butcher. He felt Butcher’s cockhead rub at his balls. They kissed, eyes shut. “All mine,” Butcher continued, sucking kisses into his neck. “All for me.”

“Please,” Hughie whimpered when Butcher scraped some teeth. 

“Oh? What does my beautiful boy want, hmm?” Butcher nosed at his jaw. “A kiss?” They kissed. “To play with his nipples?” Hughie jolted at the sudden tug. He shook his head even as he moaned. “Maybe…” Hughie felt Butcher’s cock slide up to press against his dick. “He wants someone to play with this?” Butcher swiveled his hips. “Rub it all better?” 

Hughie nodded his head, frantic, moaning again. “Please, please.”

“So good for me.” Butcher kissed Hughie’s cheek. Hughie blushed and squirmed at that. “I’ve got an option for you, dear…”

“Just do it,” Hughie begged, trying to jerk his hips. “Make me feel good—do it to me, do anything.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Butcher kissed him hard. Hughie melted. “My perfect boy, so good for me. Gonna make you wet all over.”

“Yeah,” Hughie sighed, closing his eyes. 

Butcher moved his hips back and forth, rubbing himself all over Hughie’s cock. He kept his hands on Hughie’s hips, drilling him, and using Hughie and his cock and his body to get himself off. Hughie moaned at the sensations, the slightest touch against the top of his dick, were Butcher rubbed himself off on Hughie. Hughie was there, surrounded by Butcher, but Butcher was using him just for his own pleasure as if Hughie was there just to be fucked, a nice place to rub off on, to make men cum and cum from nothing else. He deserved to be used like this. He deserved to be loved like this because Hughie wanted Butcher to cum just as much as he wanted to cum and he knew, because Butcher was his and he was Butcher’s and Butcher was his and he was Butcher’s, that he would take care of him and hold him and keep him tied up for as long as he needed and love him and kiss him and rub at his nipples and his hole and where his muscles were tight from stress. And they’d be each other’s and—

Butcher growled and came all over Hughie’s dick, getting him nice and wet and used and his. Hughie panted. Butcher pecked him on his lips and then his neck then his abs until he settled between Hughie’s thighs. Butcher held his thighs. “So pretty like this,” he said, voice weak. “All covered in my cum. All mine.” Hughie nodded.

Butcher ran his tongue up through the mess by his cock and then wrapped his lips around Hughie’s tip. He groaned, eyes shut and head landing in the pillows again. Butcher suckled at the tip, little slurping noises filling the room. Hughie tried to thrust his hips but couldn’t figure out how to move, weak all over. Butcher sucked on his cock, tongue dragging against the slit, while his fingers messaged his balls. Hughie shifted and squirmed, half-awake, hot all over and ready to combust. Butcher moved further down his cock, drooling on purpose so Hughie was extra wet, always wet. Hughie moaned and whined and made some other embarrassing noises as Butcher hummed along his cock, licking stripes up it’s shaft, and nursed at the tip and then Hughie was coming, not because Butcher did anything particular but because it had been so good and it was time to cum and Hughie deserved the fuzzy blankness that came with all this.

When Hughie’s focus renewed, Butcher was still suckling at his cock, giving it little kitten swipes. Hughie twitched and squirmed, moaning slightly. Too sensitive. Butcher gave a little kiss to his cock and made his way up the bed again, kissing whatever skin he could reach. Then they were kissing, slow and easy, a hum shared between them. “Good?” Butcher murmured.

“Yeah,” Hughie breathed, eyes still shut.

“So good for me.” 

In their after moments, Butcher unwound Hughie from the ropes, touching him all over again. He undid Hughie’s legs and rubbed the soreness away until Hughie was a puddle of goo. He felt naked without the rope--which he was--but then Butcher was on top of him again and they were together again, warm and soft. Teasingly, Butcher swooped down and bit at his nipples, tickling his sides. Hughie gasped. “Billy!” He squirmed and laughed, arms wrapping around Butcher’s shoulders. Butcher stopped his teasing and met Hughie with a kiss again and they were skin and lips and warmth. Butcher pulled the covers over them and turned off the lamp by the bed. They settled in their cocoon.

Butcher brushed Hughie’s hair away from his forehead. He cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the line of his cheek. “Beautiful,” he said. Hughie’s lips twitched. Butcher smiled. “And mine too.”

“Yours,” Hughie returned and then kissed him.

They dreamt of warmth and each other.


	2. i'm well-rested as fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quid fucking pro quo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe that this chapter basically took me a whole year to write AHAHAHA

Hughie was asleep to the world. Butcher was glad to see it. Hughie’d been so stressed the past few days and it was hard not to notice. Butcher knew Hughie would talk about it when he was ready, even though he did need some encouragement sometimes. They were alike in that way, but Butcher had a hard time even acknowledging his issues to begin with. He was just glad Hughie was worried about him meeting his family and not about _him_ specifically.

Butcher sat up against the wall. Hughie was laying against his stomach when Butcher first woke up, so now he was a bit lower, closer to his cock but not quite. Hughie was warm beneath him. Hughie looked cute like this, sleeping among the thick comforter, the clear light from outside making his hair shine something close to honey. Butcher ran his hand atop Hughie’s head, humming softly to himself.

They had a two-hour drive to get to the Campbell Thanksgiving and with city traffic, it was going to be closer to three. Butcher would need to take a shower, get dressed, and pack the pecan pies he was asked to bring. Butcher didn’t quite understand what the fucking significance of Thanksgiving was, but M.M., Frenchie, and him used to get wasted on shit wine and pumpkin pie before they each found their respective partners. With Becca, she didn’t have any family to celebrate with except for her sister, who hated him. They liked to spend Thanksgiving in bed and stuffing themselves in whatever way they could manage. Those had been good times. This would be his first Thanksgiving with Hughie and he wasn’t sure how it would go down.

“I can hear you thinking,” Hughie murmured from his lap. Butcher looked down and eyed the man who was now pressing kisses on his stomach. He felt it like a distant tickle. “Stop that.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” Butcher asked, which was true. Hughie was the over-thinker between the two of them.

“Ha. Ha.” Hughie pushed his face up from below and kissed Butcher’s cheek briefly before settling in his lap again. “Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Hughie said, and then there was some pink dusting his cheeks, “Thank you for last night.” Butcher hummed in response. Last night had been quite enjoyable, which was standard for the two of them. His fingers trailed along the soft hairs of Butcher’s thighs. “Do you want me to blow you?” he asked.

Butcher squinted down at him. “This isn’t quid fucking pro quo, Hughie. You don’t have to return the favor.”

“I know that,” he said shifting closer. His nose, which had been resting against his stomach, travelled lower. “I want to. And also,” Hughie cupped his hardening cock, “I know you want me to.”

“Actually,” Butcher said, shifting to sit up. Hughie sat up with him. He kissed him briefly. Morning breath was disgusting, even if Hughie was alright. “Can we try something new?”

“Oh? Getting fancy on me?” Hughie teased, already nodding.

“It’s a classic,” Butcher returned. “Here, get like this.” Butcher redirected Hughie so that his knees were up by the pillows and his face resting near Butcher’s crotch. Now Butcher was facing Hughie cock, hard now, and Hughie was facing his. The image alone, of Hughie’s sleepy face near his cock and Hughie’s cock waiting to be touched above him, was enough to satisfy his fantasy.

“Sixty-nine?” Hughie laughed, facing him. “What are we thirteen?”

“I’m a simple fucking man.” Butcher shrugged. “If you don’t wanna, you can always just blow me and I can watch your pert little arse shake from over here.”

Hughe smiled and shook his head. “No, this is fine, we can--oh!”

Butcher, having already heard a ‘yes,’ raised his head and took Hughie’s cock in his mouth. Hughie made another chocked off noise as Butcher reached up and pulled Hughie closer by the ass, drawing more of his cock into his mouth. Butcher ran his tongue from side to side, sucking the hardness there, and feeling himself twitch as Hughie panted weakly against his own cock. Butcher bobbed his head a few times just to feel Hughie squirm above him before he pulled off and looked at the other man.

“You gonna just stand there?” Butcher asked, raising hips so that his cock rubbed against Hughie’s cheek. They both made choked noises at that. Hughie, red cheeked, nodded and opened his mouth and began licking at Butcher’s cock like it was some kind of lolly. Fuckin’ hell. Butcher’s head started to lose himself as Hughie began to suck, wet and messy all over his cock. Butcher returned the favor, downing Hughie’s dick like a pint.

It felt like he was getting used, like there was a third person in the room with them, and Butcher was getting it all. If Butcher wasn’t such a possessive fuck, he might’ve considered another partner for an evening, just to see Hughie tied down from two sets of hands, but he liked this even better. They were both getting used right now and even though Butcher didn’t get floaty in the head like Hughie did, this was still nice. Hughie’s mouth tightened on his cock, sucking harder than before, but loosened with a muffled gasp when Butcher rubbed his tongue along his slit. Every swirl, every suck, every drip of spit set the other off. Butcher made a low sound, but Hughie, fuck, he was a loud even muffled, desperate as Butcher sucked his cock and fucked his face. 

He wouldn’t stop moving. Butcher usually liked the squirming, made something hot and heavy gurgle inside of him, but Hughie’s cock kept scraping the back of his tongue at weird moments and it made him gag and not in the good way. Butcher’s hands, already on Hughie’s arse, moved down slightly, edging towards the man’s hips, and gripped him tight, forcing Hughie to still. Hughie made a weak noise between his legs. Butcher would’ve smirked if his mouth wasn’t already busy. He pressed down on the sensitive flesh, hot and heavy underneath him, hard enough to bruise, and Hughie choked on his cock. Butcher made an abortive thrust before remembering himself. Hughie dragged his tongue along his shaft, teeth scraping slightly, and it made something white burn behind his eyes. 

Butcher swallowed around the thickness in his mouth. Hughie twitched at that. Butcher wanted to feel him come apart. He dragged Hughie even deeper in his mouth, willing himself to relax. It wasn’t easy, Butcher wasn’t the cocksucker king, but he could fucking do this. And he knew just what would drive Hughie mad. 

Butcher’s fingers gave one final squeeze near his hips, before he trailed them along buttery smooth skin to the crease of his ass again. Butcher swallowed as he pulled at Hughie’s cheeks, his boy bucking at the new sensation. Butcher would’ve grinned, instead he growled as he rubbed his fingers along his crack. Hughie keened. If they’d fucked last night, he’d be wet here, Butcher thought. He’d be stuffed with his cum, messy with it, and wouldn’t that be something. Butcher pressed down on Hughie’s hole, guiding him deeper into his mouth, gagging slightly on it. Hughie made a desperate noise and hips caught in the need to rub back on Butcher’s finger or drive into his mouth. Butcher rubbed more at that hole, Hughie choking around his cock, wet all over his cock, and then pressed his finger in, just the tip, just the dry fucking tip, as he scraped his teeth along Hughie’s cock, and Hughie shot off like a firework. His thighs shook around Butcher’s face, his mouth loose around Butcher’s cock as he came down his throat. Butcher swallowed, smirking at how easily he got his boy to cum, just a tease of something more and it was over for him. 

Butcher slid off Hughie cock slowly, one final suck at the tip that made Hughie whine. Butcher moved his hands to his hips and pushed Hughie toward his side, sitting up slightly to look at Hughie still down on his cock. His boy was shaking. “Gorgeous,” Butcher murmured and Hughie made another desperate noise. His ears were bright red and Butcher chuckled, leading Hughie’s legs closer to the mattress. “Come here,” Butcher growled. Hughie reluctantly let go of Butcher’s cock. His chest heaved, but he wouldn’t move. Butcher’s dick twitched, but his concern was greater. “Hughie?” Butcher reached out for him, a hand on his side. 

Hughie gasped and twisted up, falling more easily into Butcher’s arms. Hughie’s mouth was feverish on his, his hips bumping against Butcher’s as if he was still hard. His wet, soft cock dragged against Butcher’s hard wet one. Hughie gripped Butcher’s hair, tugging at him. The pricks of pain made Butcher burn with it. Hughie was going too fast, rubbing and gripping at him, anxious again. As much as Butcher liked it, he wanted something different. His hands came down on Hughie’s hips, tight and firm, and he deepened their kiss, slowing the motions of their tongues. Hughie’s squirming stopped, and he melted back into his arms again. Butcher practically purred at that, feeling how soft and warm his Hughie was. 

After kissing for a while, slow sucks on each other’s tongues, heavy petting across shoulders, jaws, arses, Hughie smirked into their kiss and reached down with shaking fingers to wrap around Butcher’s cock. Butcher groaned at that, having almost forgot how hard he was. Their kisses continued to be sweet, but Hughie jerked him off with a tight fist, thumb digging at his slit cruelly. Butcher’s hips would’ve jumped if Hughie wasn’t already seated atop of him. Still, he gasped as Hughie twisted his wrists. Hughie hinted teeth at his bottom lip before licking it away. Butcher almost passed out at that. But it was the shaky heaviny of Hughie’s chest, the finicky fingers holding his cock, that got him off, as if Butcher had wrung out every ounce of pleasure, of common sense, of Hughie and now all he could do was shake in desperation for Butcher to cum. 

“Please?” Hughie gasped, tightening his hand before releasing it again in spasm, and Butcher was a goner, cumming with a cut off moan. Hughie rubbed his nose along the edge of his beard, the soft glide of his hand a few more times before Butcher fell back into the sheets. Hughie wiped his wet hand on Butcher’s thigh and stretched across him, which meant they were now glued together. 

Butcher didn’t mind, mouthing weakly at Hughie’s cheek as he tried to regain any sense of mind. They laid there, the light warm and sheets cooling. Goosebumps littered both their shoulder, something he hadn’t noticed before. 

Butcher sucked in a deep breath and it was like his brain had turned on with a switch. Hughie was still atop him, snuggling him. Butcher chuckled and swatted at his bum lightly. “We need to get a move on don’t we?” he wondered. Hughie’s blue eyes peered back at him. 

“I guess,” he sighed softly. Butcher was sad to see the light go out of those pretty blues.

Butcher kissed the tip of his nose. “C’mon, princess, I’ll eat you out tonight if you’re good.”

Hughie made an amused sound and sat up. “I feel like I should be telling you that.”

“You could’a eaten my arse any day,” Butcher offered, getting up as well.

“Mhm,” Hughie hummed as he made his way to the bathroom. “If you’re good tonight,” Hughie offered, “I’ll put you in a maid’s outfit and fuck you over the couch.” 

“Why darlin’ I never thought you’d ask.” 

Hughie laughed as he closed the door, the sound of the shower turning on.

Butcher had half the mind to join him, but knew they’d get up to some naughty business that would get them late. Butcher liked the bed anyhow, how warm it was from him and Hughie laying there. He thought about what they’d said a moment before. Hughie didn’t normally top, which made sense for the two of them, but if Hughie was interested, Butcher wouldn’t mind. Scratch that, he definitely wouldn’t fucking mind. Fourth of July, Hughie and Butcher’d been wasted, but Hughie was still eager for it, and Butcher had ridden his cock like it was no business. Fucking hell, Butcher thought, Hughie could do whatever the fuck he wanted with him. He had him.

When Hughie came out of the shower, looking fresh, wet, and a bit like a drowned mutt, Butcher couldn’t help the chuckle. Hughie said something about making breakfast, kissing him as they passed one another. Before Butcher got into the shower, he did something he’d been planning to do and pulled out the clippers.

Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed for meeting the fucking family, Butcher left the bedroom for the kitchen. Hughie had a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast already out for Butcher, and had already eaten his, now scrolling through his phone. Butcher sat down and picked up a slice. When Hughie saw him, he practically dropped his phone.

“You trimmed your beard!” Hughie accused. He had. Where it had been growing long, almost an inch from below his jaw, it now clung closer to his jawline, still a beard, but more presentable. Butcher had thought, with meeting the family and all, the he should… 

Butcher ate his toast. “So?” he gruffed. Was Hughie going to make a huge deal out of it?

“You’re no longer my fucking wooly mammoth!” Hughie complained. “Now I can’t envision us fucking in a log cabin. You look like a fucking GQ model!”

Butcher squinted in confusion. “I can’t tell if that’s a fucking bad thing, mate.”

“I’m just surprised,” Hughie said. “You’re fucking hot man, like all the time.”

“Ah.”

Hughie narrowed his eyes at him. “Why the change?”

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Seriously, cuntface?” Hughie was smart enough to cut through Butcher’s bullshit, engineer the takedown of Homelander, and switch employers, but he couldn’t figure this one out?

Hughie smiled, bright and warm. Fuck, there it was. The brightness that got Butcher all twisted up inside and settled just the same. “You didn’t have to do this for me,” Hughie said sweetly. There was still trouble in his eyes. Butcher could recognize it for what it was: nerves for the upcoming event. But it was still nice to see the smile, the warmth. Butcher would do anything to minimize Hughie’s discomfort with his family. “But thank you.”

Butcher shrugged, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Hughie seemed to get that and let him eat in peace. When they were done, they packed up their shit and made their way to the door. As they were walking out, Hughie chuckled. “What’s got you in a frilly?” Butcher wondered.

“I’m thinking,” Hughie smirked as he cupped Butcher’s cheek, rubbing along the beard line, “About how nice the beard burn you’re gonna give me later will feel.” Butcher laughed, ignoring the possessive growl low in his groin about Hughie covered in his marks, and pulled him in for one biting kiss.

“Later,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, i forgot how well in depth i write these fics, so now i have to rewrite what i have of the longer hughie/butcher fic to appease you omg fml


	3. fuck, i'm so happy to have you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family. 
> 
> GROSS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: HOMOPHOBIAAA!!! and biphobia obviously. also discussion of transphobia and mentions of child abuse. we LOVE to see it. (not.)

Hughie told his dad and Aunt Elisabeth that he’d be bringing a man home for Thanksgiving, his boyfriend for several months, the man he was intending to move in with, his serious partner, but it looked like the rest of the family hadn’t gotten the memo. His younger cousins didn’t seem to care, or pay attention, but his uncles kept staring at Butcher, their mouths heavy set as they ate their green beans. Butcher returned their suspicious looks with his own stubborn gaze. 

They sat next to each other at the far end of the table, near his father, who was too busy fawning over Hughie’s grandmother to pay his son much attention. Butcher had been nothing polite this evening, exchanging warm smiles and pies with his aunt when they first entered the house. He accepted the beer his sorta-okay uncle offered and watched football, offering comments here and there, while Hughie attempted to follow along. The men of the house weren’t approving, but at least this one knew what a scrimmage was while Hughie hadn’t thrown a football since he was seven.

When they sat down at dinner, Butcher spoke when he was spoken too, more often than getting roped into conversation with Hughie’s cousin Jess. He was the perfect gentlemen, eating the turkey Hughie knew was too dry and not cursing even when one of his male cousins started talking about the stock market or how affirmative action was cruel or some other white-bullshit Hughie would rather not engage in. Butcher was the perfect guest, the sort of guy you’d love to take home to your vaguely awful extended family.

If anything, it was Hughie who shouldn’t have been there.

He had never quite fit in with his cousins. He and Jess used to listen to Billy Joel, back when they were in high school, but there wasn’t much else in common. Hughie had always been…awkward, lanky, going nowhere fast. Like his father. Except his father had the love of Hughie’s grandmother, which protected Hughie from the attention of his uncles, except to call him a mama’s boy.

“So, Hugh Junior,” his grandmother started, who sat at the head of the table. That wasn’t Hughie’s name, but he wouldn’t be the one to correct her. Hughie’s father shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside him. “How did you and your friend meet?” she nodded between him and Butcher.

Hughie wanted to tug at the collar of his shirt, wishing he could unbutton it with how anxious he was to share, but afraid of what marks his family would be able to see. He couldn’t tell him that they met at a bar, that they’d fucked that same night and had continued to fuck for the next couple of months until they got their heads out of their asses.

Butcher saved him from having to lie, saying, “Hughie helped me with a case.” Which was true. Hughie had helped with him with a few cases over their time together. “He’s good with computers.”

“A case?” cousin Jess wondered. 

“I’m a P.I.,” Butcher explained, flashing a charming smile at her. “Solve cases the cops don’t have the resources for.”

“You hate the cops?” his uncle, Reggie, demanded.

“Used to be one of them,” Butcher told him, crossing his arms. 

“I can see why you aren’t one,” Reggie scoffed, covering up a few more choice words with a swig of his drink.

“Did Hugh Junior help with the case?” his grandmother asked. “Did he help solve it?”

“He got everything on tape,” Butcher grinned. Hughie had the sneaking, and horribly timed, realization that Butcher might’ve been referring to time with the nanny cams. Which should’ve never been brought up in the presence of his father. He felt hot all of the sudden, and like he needed something stronger to drink. “Been stuck with me ever since.”

“Well you two must be great friends then. To work together so often.” She sliced her turkey. “How sweet.”

Hughie didn’t want to say it, but he definitely didn’t want Butcher to say it, terrified of how he’d say it. 

“Hughie,” his father warned.

“Actually,” Hughie corrected, regretting that he had to in the first place, “we’re living together.” While Hughie hadn’t officially moved in, he was pretty much doing it already.

“Best friends then,” his grandmother decided. “It must be difficult finding a two-bedroom apartment in the city. I never knew how my boy Hugh could stand all that noise.”

Hughie wanted to scream into the cranberry sauce.

“It’s a one bedroom,” Butcher said. And to calm Hughie down, he placed his hand on Hughie’s knee, rubbing at the fabric in soft circles. Hughie would’ve had an aneurysm otherwise.

“Well that’s strange.” His grandmother went back to her turkey.

Uncle Reggie snorted from across the table.

Fuck.

“Ma,” Reggie scoffed, “can’t you tell, they’re fucking.”

His grandmother slammed her hand on the table. “Not that kind of language at my table.” Uncle Reggie turned bright red, shooting a glare at Hughie as if it was his fault. His grandmother huffed. “And what kind of silly nonsense is that? Two boys? Hmph!”

Hughie sighed, hoping that that was the end of it.

“Yeah, let’s talk about that,” Uncle Sam said, his fork scraping across his plate. 

His wife, Connie, shut her eyes in exhaustion. “Let’s not, Sam.”

“Last year you were here with that Robin girl,” he accused. “She was a nice girl, Hughie. A good woman. Came around here for a few years. Perfect for you to settle down with. I could see you two getting a home together, maybe having some kids. What happened to her?”

Hughie wanted to tell him that Robin was now in a lesbian relationship, but felt that wouldn’t go over too well.

“We broke up,” he said instead.

“Why?” Uncle Sam questioned. “You weren’t man enough for her?” All at once, everyone at the table tensed. 

Except for Butcher, who spat an, “Oi,” at his uncle and gripped the knife in his hand.

Hughie panicked. “I--”

“Is that why you got with this guy?” he continued. “You weren’t a man so you decided to be the girl and take it up the--”

“Sam!” Connie smacked her husband. “Not at the dinner table.” 

“Listen here, I’ll have you know that Hughie is more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Butcher defended, scooting his chair back. Hughie grabbed him by the arm, in case Butcher was getting ready for a fight.

“You sure about that?” Uncle Reggie snorted. “I mean look at him! He can’t even defend himself.” The men at the table all started to laugh, the women looking a little embarrassed for Hughie too. “He knows it’s true.”

His father glanced at him, whispering, “See, I told you not bring him,” which was the first thing he’d said this entire time.

“You’re the one who wanted me here,” Hughie said, and scooted his chair back as well. He stood up and turned to his aunt. “Aunt Elisabeth, thank you for inviting us.”

His aunt hid her nod behind her wine glass.

“Hugh Junior, where are you going?” his grandmother asked. “We haven’t even had desert.”

“I’m going home,” he declared. Then added, “With my boyfriend. Because we are dating, Grandma. And yes, Uncle Reggie, we fuck too. Probably better than you ever will.”

Gasps went up and down the table. 

“Hughie!” his father scolded. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Hughie turned to Butcher, who was trying not to smirk and was failing pretty miserably. “Are you ready to go?”

“Happy to oblige,” he winked. He took Hughie’s hand and was led away from the table and back through the kitchen. There was noise from the other room, mostly scolding from his grandmother to his father.

Butcher and Hughie helped each other into their coats. Butcher was snickering, muttering something about stupid cunt-Americans. Hughie was trying not to laugh or notice how red his cheeks were from whatever the fuck he’d just done. And then, on their way out, they gave one final fuck-you to Thanksgiving and stole all the good pies, leaving behind the shitty one Butcher bought for the occasion.

When they got out of the house and into the chilly air, Hughie started laughing and then couldn’t stop. He thought he might start crying. Jesus fuck, had he really let his stupid family walk all over him? Had he really said all that? Had he really not said more? He was never going to be invited back for the holidays. His grandmother was going to write him out of the will if he was even in it in the first place. His dad was going to be pissed off. Never speak to him again. Fuck! He shouldn’t have done that, not any of it. He shouldn’t have brought Butcher home, knew it was going to be like this, shouldn’t have come at all. Fuck, why couldn’t he stop laughing.

Butcher dragged him along to the car. He put their stolen pies on the hood. And softly pushed Hughie against the driver’s door, holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “Hughie, are you alright?”

“I’m--haha--I’m fine,” he laughed, “why do you ask?”

“I think you might be cryin’ a bit,” Butcher said, wiping his tears away. 

“Oh, well,” Hughie giggled again, hysterically. “That all happened. I’m pretty sure Uncle Sam was going to beat us up back there.”

“I would’ve taken them,” Butcher said seriously.

Hughie leaned forward, resting his forehead against Butcher’s and closing his eyes. “I know you would.”

“It’s alright, princess,” Butcher consoled.

“God I’m so sorry,” Hughie sighed, exhausted. He leaned away again, staring up at the darkening sky. “I shouldn’t have brought you, but you handled everything so well, Butcher. God. My family fucking sucks and I knew it. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Butcher smiled weakly at him. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Listen, Hughie, I’m no stranger to asshole families.” Butcher told him, “I’ve got a brother.”

Hughie blinked in surprise. “Wait. You do?”

“Yeah, he’s living out in Spain,” Butcher said. “I don’t…talk about it much, but when we were kids, Lenny and I were used to a fist from our old man.”

Dread clogged his veins. “Jesus fuck.”

Butcher scoffed. “Whatever. I did all I could to protect Lenny from the deadbeat.” Hughie could imagine it easily, a scrawny Butcher trying to protect his younger brother, hardened at a young age and only growing tougher, meaner as the world made everything worse. “But nothing I did stopped him from calling Lenny Lily.” Oh. Before Hughie could react, Butcher continued. “Mum got better, once we left that shit-hole, but I get it. You’ve got me in your corner, Hughie.”

Butcher had never told him that before. He had so many questions. About his childhood, about the abuse, about Lenny and how they got away. How Lenny was doing now, how Butcher had figured out his own identity, how he’d survived it all. 

Hughie could say he’d never been abused, hadn’t had it as bad as Butcher, but one thing was true. “God why do our families suck?”

“We’ve got a great family,” Butcher told him. At Hughie’s questioning look, he kissed his cheek, murmuring, “Frenchie, M.M.,” alternating from the left to the right side with each name, “Robin, Kimiko, hell, Annie even. People like us, we got each other’s backs. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hughie breathed and pulled Butcher in for a kiss. They made out in the chilly air of late November, up against Butcher’s car, in their winter coats, outside his aunt’s house, with a stack of stolen pies on the hoods after telling his family to fuck off, and it was easily one of the best kisses Hughie had ever had. 

Butcher pulled away with a smirk, asking, “Wanna get out of here?” His hands had disappeared from Hughie’s lapels and had landed dangerously low on his hips, rubbing some very interesting patterns there.

“Fuck yeah,” Hughie grinned. They had some plans to fulfill, involving some pie and lots of stuffing. It would be the best Thanksgiving yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna hold off on releasing the end of this until after I posted chapter four of "fuck, hughie, i--" because it's lowkey filler, but i was like FUCK IT!!! it's november!!! let's have some FUN!!! so anyway, some notes:
> 
> 1\. I'm really, really, really bad at writing confrontational scenes, especially involving homophobia because it makes me uncomfortable as a queer person to talk about shit like that woohooo. anyway Hughie's family sucks and hughie loves his boyfriend and totally was terrified of the biphobia that was about to POP OUT  
> 2\. I don't know why, but I have such a strong headcannon that Lenny is trans and not dead, and it's mostly because we never actually hear that Lenny is dead-dead, and also, in this AU we do NOT kill people we love and we are QUEER AS FUCK!  
> 3\. i can't believe this fanfic took me over a year to write sksksksksksk i hate myself anyway LOVE YALL


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